


solfège

by talkingtoangels



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, M/M, Violinist AU, and one swear word, idk if this should even be rated teen, there's like two jokes about not getting any, they're violinists, tsukkiyama shenanigans in a string orchestra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtoangels/pseuds/talkingtoangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima lets out a huge sigh as the concertmaster stops for the fourth time- this time to yell at the principal viola- before he hears someone mutter “Well, this is going to be a fun year,” beside him. He turns to see his stand partner also letting out a sigh.</p>
<p>Appreciating that somebody else seems to share his point of view about the ineptness of the orchestra and the obnoxious concertmaster, he responds with “Don’t I know it.”</p>
<p>//</p>
<p>Alternatively, Tsukishima joins a string orchestra, gets a big headache, and meets a fellow violinist going through the same thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	solfège

**Author's Note:**

> This is the string orchestra au that nobody really asked for. Please keep in mind that I have never played the violin in my life or joined an orchestra and the research I did for this was very minimal, so there might be mistakes?  
> There are a couple of musical terminologies in this fic, and it's not necessary to understand them in order to read this, but just in case here are the definitions:  
>  **Concertmaster-** the first-chair first violinist of an orchestra, often charged with leading the section, deciding all bowings, translating the wishes of the conductor to the orchestra and vice-versa, listening to auditions, and serving as a representative of the orchestra to its larger community.  
>  **Chamber orchestra-** an orchestra that employs about 50 or fewer musicians (who may all play strings). As the name suggests, they play “chamber music”—older tunes written for private halls, aristocratic parlors, and glitzy palace chambers.  
>  **Flautando-** a "sul tasto" (over-the-fingerboard) bow stroke that creates a flute-like sound.  
>  **Portamento-** an effect done by sliding into a note with the left hand.

_Do._

 

Tsukishima Kei would like to say that he did not sign up for this. However, he knows did, considering he had known exactly how incompetent the string orchestra was and he still had chosen it over chamber. Whatever. Maybe it will turn out to be better than chamber, even with the less-than-skilled musicians the string orchestra is mostly comprised of.

Tsukishima makes his way over to one of the unoccupied chairs to sit down. He doesn't move to take out his violin, nor does he try to make conversation with his fellow musicians. He just sits. And waits.

He notices some of the others looking at him from time to time, but he pays them no mind. He's just here to play the violin, and these people don’t look like they’re worth his time anyway.

It takes a while, but the conductor of this orchestra finally shows up, and the orchestra quiets down as he clears his throat and begins to explain what they'll be doing this year.

It’s pretty standard stuff. They'll be having rehearsals at the same time in the same room unless stated otherwise, they'll be performing several pieces that have all already been decided, everybody has been assigned a seat so please do go to your assigned seats if you aren't already, etcetera, etcetera. Nothing Tsukishima doesn't already know.

However, he does still need to move to his assigned seat. He'd been assigned to first violin, but there had been a crowd of people there before that he'd really rather not mingle with. Now, though, the group of people was all also moving to their respective seats, so he decides that it's safe to go over.

He gets there, sits down, and carefully places his violin by his feet. He's the one sitting towards the outside, although it's not like it matters much anyway.

The conductor tells them to warm up, then promptly leaves them to do some sort of paperwork in the corner of the room. Tsukishima assumes he won't be coming back until they need to tune.

He doesn't talk to his stand partner, and his stand partner doesn't try to talk to him. Which suits him just fine, it's not like they need to be friendly to share a music stand.

He begins warming up by playing some scales, like any good member of the orchestra would do. His stand partner does the same. But he guesses not everyone else has that idea because dreadful screeching starts up in the row in front of him and he's forced to stop because he can't hear himself over that racket and oh god maybe he should have taken the chance to go to chamber after all.

Tuskishima actually has to put down his violin and rub his temples, because they were just that awful. Perfect. He already has a headache and it’s only been 20 minutes and why, oh _why_ , he’d chosen to come here because he thought it’d be less stressful but he’s already being proven wrong on the first day.

A moment later, the concertmaster, probably having heard the incredibly atrocious sounds being produced, stands up and shouts for the orchestra to stop, now they are going to tune.

Forty-five seconds into tuning Tsukishima discovers yet another problem separate from the incompetency of this orchestra. The concertmaster is a prick. He needs everything to be perfect, which is fine in itself, if not for the fact that absolutely nothing was perfect enough for him.

Tsukishima lets out a huge sigh as the concertmaster stops for the fourth time- this time to yell at the principal viola- before he hears someone mutter “Well, this is going to be a fun year,” beside him. He turns to see his stand partner also letting out a sigh.

Appreciating that somebody else seems to share his point of view about the ineptness of the orchestra and the obnoxious concertmaster, he responds with “Don’t I know it.”

Hearing a snort from his fellow unfortunate musician, Tsukishima turns to face him fully. He sees freckles and brown eyes.

“Looking forward to this amazing year with you. I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.”

“Tsukishima Kei. Likewise.”

* * *

 

_Re._

 

The next few rehearsals go barely better than the first one, if only because of Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi seems to understand Tsukishima’s sense of humour, for which he is grateful. Not many people he meets now do, and it’s always a pleasure to meet somebody who does.

Yamaguchi is also similarly distressed about the state of the orchestra, and Tsukishima is glad that he’s not the only sane one here. Although he almost retracts that statement when he finds out why Yamaguchi is here.

“Why are you in this orchestra? You’re probably good enough to be in chamber.” Tsukishima had said to him. And it was true, Yamaguchi was probably skilled enough to be in chamber, and Tsukishima highly doubts that Yamaguchi would reject the offer for the same reasons as him. Yamaguchi doesn’t seem to be the type that runs from responsibility.

After hearing his question, Yamaguchi had laughed.

“Well, maybe I am,” he says. “I didn’t get an offer from chamber, but I didn’t audition either. But it’s not like I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t really mind being in chamber. Probably beats this, you know?” he gestured towards the violinists around them and Tsukishima offered a small nod. Chamber would probably beat this, but you needed to work _so hard_ and-

“But I didn't audition because at that time, I simply couldn’t,” Yamaguchi continued on. “This is actually kind of dumb, but I went and broke my arm three weeks before they started accepting. I told them about my situation, and they just told me it was too bad because they wouldn’t want me if I couldn’t play. Then they said that the regular orchestra would accept me if I was able to play by the first rehearsal, so I should go for that instead. Which is what I did, and that’s why I’m here.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Tsukishima had replied. Then because he was curious, “How did you break your arm?”

He’d expected something normal. Like perhaps Yamaguchi had fallen down the stairs, or maybe something heavy had dropped on his arm. But, what he got instead was:

“I slipped and fell in the shower.”

That certainly wasn't what Tsukishima had expected, but he supposed that accidents do happen. After all, showers can be slippery.  

“Maybe you should have gotten a shower mat with grip,” he says.  

Yamaguchi grins. “Oh, I do have a shower mat, but you’ll find that shower mats don’t really do much when you’re caught up in reenacting Broadway musical numbers.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Mi._

 

Tsukishima knows that there are some people who like to make notes on their music sheet. He doesn’t like to do that because it gets messy easily and it’s not like he needs to write notes down in order to remember stuff.

Yamaguchi though is a different story. He likes to make little notes all over the music sheet. In the margins, between the bars, everywhere. Pretty soon, his pages are covered almost entirely with graphite.

This wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact that Yamaguchi was his stand partner, and that means they have to share a music sheet.

The fourth rehearsal, Tsukishima watches Yamaguchi cram yet another note in between two bars. There is almost no empty space anywhere on the page anymore.

“Do you have to do that? Now the page is all messy, I can’t even see the music anymore,” he complains.

Yamaguchi looks at him, then puts his pencil down. “Yes, I have to. It helps me when I play.”

“How? I don’t even think you’d have time to read all those notes when you’re playing,” Tsukishima insists. “Besides, doesn’t it make it hard to read the actual music?”

“It does not! I swear it helps, maybe you should try it some time, Tsukki. Maybe it’ll help you with the portamento in bar 72.”

Tsukishima wrinkles his nose. He can feel his face warming from the mention of the mistakes he made in bar 72. He hadn’t expected Yamaguchi to pick up on that. “No, thanks. I’d like to be able to actually see what I’m playing. And I’m doing just fine on the portamento.”

Yamaguchi rolls his eyes, and Tsukishima hears a “Sure, Tsukki,” before the conductor shushes the room and signals them to get into playing position. They make their way through the piece, stopping here and there to do adjustments and make corrections.

After they finish playing a more difficult passage of music, the conductor stops to offer comments to the double basses. Out of the corner of his eye, Tsukishima sees Yamaguchi pick up his pencil to make another note, and wait, is he writing on the music?

“Yamaguchi, what are you doing?” Tsukishima says in the most scandalized tone he could muster.

“Making a note on this position shift, of course.”

“But why are you writing on the music? You can’t do that! Write it in the space beside it or something.”

“I can too. It’s not like I’m writing over the notes, you should still be able to read it just fine.”

Tsukishima sees Yamaguchi’s pencil case resting on the ground beside the stand. He moves to grab it and search for an eraser inside. When he finds it, he holds it slightly above the words Yamaguchi had written on the sheet.

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to proceed with his plan. Almost teasingly, Tsukishima inches the eraser closer and closer to the paper.

Just before the eraser touches the music sheet, Yamaguchi yanks it away from Tsukishima and holds it away from him.

“Yamaguchi, give me back my eraser.”

“It’s not your eraser, it’s my eraser! And I can’t give it back to you, you’re going to erase my notes!”

“I let you write notes on the blank spaces already, but writing on the music is just going too far.”  

“I wasn’t writing on the music!”

Tsukishima is now leaning as over as far as he can to try and grab the eraser back, and even though he's got longer arms than Yamaguchi he still can't reach it unless he leans over even more. And now Yamaguchi was leaning even further away-

That's when he remembers that one could only lean so far out of the chair without actually getting out of the chair, and he manages to right himself right before he goes crashing down.

Yamaguchi, however, isn't quite so lucky. There's a terrifying moment where time seemed to stop before a series of things happens in quick succession. First, he sees Yamaguchi reach out to try and hold on to something, and manage to grab ahold of the music stand. Then, the music stand begins to tip over as well, and a look of resignation appears on Yamaguchi’s face. Finally, Tsukishima feels something being thrust into his hands before both Yamaguchi and the music stand go down with a huge crash.

Every single person in the room turns to look at the source of the noise. The conductor has stopped his conversation with the bassists and is now looking unimpressed as he surveys the scene. The music stand is on the floor, the music sheets that had been previously on the stand were scattered everywhere, and a first violinist is lying on the ground.

“Yamaguchi, is everything okay?” the conductor asks in a cool tone.

“.... Yes, sir. Everything is good,” Yamaguchi replies from the floor.

“Good, then. Please pick up the stand and sit back in the chair. I hope accidents like this do not happen again in the future.”

The conductor returns to the front of the room, and people begin to turn away to face their own music again. Yamaguchi sits up and rights the stand. Tsukishima could hear Yamaguchi’s cheeky “See what you've done now, Tsukki. All because you couldn't take a little writing on the paper,” as he's gathering up the music sheet.

But Tsukishima doesn't reply. Throughout the entire thing, Tsukishima could only focus on one thing: Yamaguchi had handed him his violin as he was falling so that it wouldn't be damaged. Frankly, he is incredibly impressed, and more than a little in awe.

 

* * *

 

_Fa._

 

One rehearsal, the concertmaster, Kageyama, starts yelling at a cellist for not being able to play bar 48 to his satisfaction. So far, this is the eighth time this week Kageyama has yelled at somebody, and that’s just counting the ones that he’d singled out. Kageyama wasn’t above yelling at whole sections as well.

“I told you, there’s a decrescendo here!”

“I know there’s a decrescendo there! I can read!”

“Then why can’t you play it?”

“I can and am playing it! You’re just not listening hard enough!

“I am too! Look, if I can’t hear it, then that means you’re not playing it right! I’m the concertmaster, I know what I’m talking about!”

“Some concertmaster you are, who even let you be one?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. He kind of agrees with the red-headed cellist about Kageyama’s eligibility as concertmaster, considering he can’t even give proper constructive criticism. Not that Tsukishima can do better, but hey, at least Tsukishima _knows_ this, and that’s why he’s never wanted to be concertmaster.

Glancing over at his stand partner, Tsukishima sees Yamaguchi with a similarly exasperated look on his face.

“Wonder why Kageyama is so wound up,” Yamaguchi mutters.

Tsukishima snorts. “As if we don’t know. That pissbaby attitude probably doesn’t get him any.”

Yamaguchi starts snickering at that, and Tsukishima joins in.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t go unheard. The conductor asks them what’s so funny.

“Nothing,” Yamaguchi replies.

“Then I expect you two to conduct yourselves properly during rehearsal. This is a professional orchestra, please behave accordingly.”

The conductor turns away, probably to tell Kageyama to calm down. Tsukishima takes this opportunity to whisper to Yamaguchi “Guess Kageyama’s not the only one whose attitude isn’t doing them any favours.”

They both start snickering again, albeit a little more quietly this time. The exasperated look the people around them throw in their direction proves that they’re still not being as silent as they hoped, though.

“There they go again,” they overhear a fellow first violinist sigh to her stand partner.

 

* * *

 

_Sol._

 

“Alright everyone, good work. I’ll be seeing you all again in two days,” the conductor says as people begin to pack up.

As Tsukishima puts away his things and places his violin back in its case, he hears Yamaguchi begin to speak.

“Hey, Tsukki. Do you think we’ll be ready for the performance in time?”

“I highly doubt it. I can’t imagine those second violins somehow gaining the ability to actually play overnight,” Tsukishima replies dryly. “I have even less hope for them now that I’ve heard them attempt to play that flautando.”

Yamaguchi chuckles. The violinists sitting in the third row in second violin has been the source of their grief for the past week. They can’t play for shit, and Tsukishima wonders, not for the first time, if this orchestra had any standards at all.

“The pieces we’re playing aren’t that hard though, anybody should be able to play it with some practice, barring maybe amateurs,” Yamaguchi says as he slides his music back into the folder where he keeps all his papers.

“Unfortunately, they might as well be amateurs,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath. He’d been half-expecting Yamaguchi not to hear it, but it seems that he does anyway, as Yamaguchi lets out a little sound that sounds both amused and slightly exasperated.

Tsukishima feels a small smile forming on his lips. Talking to Yamaguchi is never tiring like it is with some other people he knows. But between the rehearsing part of rehearsal and the late time that they finish, there’s not really as much time to talk. He sort of wishes that they got to talk more often.

Of course, Tsukishima could totally just voice his thoughts, since that would actually get him somewhere. However, Tsukishima is also really, really bad at putting his feelings into words, so naturally things like this just remain unsaid.

They leave the building together. The sun is just slipping behind the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city.

“See you next time, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says with a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima replies.

Yamaguchi walks down the steps outside the building and disappears around the corner. Tsukishima remains where he is, recalling how the sunset had made Yamaguchi’s smile look. And he wonders, not entirely for the first time, that maybe this time, he should try a little harder.

 

* * *

 

_La._

 

“No, I think you shouldn’t put the vibrato there. Put it here instead, it’ll sound better. Like this,” Tsukishima demonstrates his point by playing that part.

Yamaguchi copies him, playing the same passage of music again, but this time with the vibrato where Tsukishima suggests it.

“Oh, I see. That makes sense! Thanks, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi smiles at him as he puts his violin down in his lap.

“It’s nothing,” Tsukishima replies.

They’re doing sectional rehearsals right now, practicing pieces that they’ll be performing soon as they’ll be providing the accompaniment music for the dance troupe that’s also a part of the company that manages the orchestra. Since it was a relatively different type of music than the ones they had been rehearsing before, the conductor thinks that it will be better to perfect the music as much as possible in their respective sections before coming all together to rehearse. Technically, sectional rehearsals are really supposed to be conducted in groups of more than two people. But everyone else has already found their own group and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi really didn’t mind that they were the only two people left together in first violin. That way, they only have to practice with each other, and Tsukishima was just fine with that.

They go through the piece several more times. Despite it being a different type of music than the ones they usually play in rehearsal, it’s not that hard to get a grasp on it. Tsukishima stops playing and glances around. Most people in the room are practicing still, although a few seem to have stopped like he and Yamaguchi did. That’s sectional rehearsals for you, Tsukishima thinks, but it’s not like he and Yamaguchi are slacking, per se, since they’ve both got the piece down good enough and don’t need to play it a thousand times to play it good, unlike _some_ other people in this orchestra.

Tsukishima turns back to face Yamaguchi just as he begins to speak. “Have you ever been to one of the dance performances, Tsukki?”

“Yeah, my brother used to play for this orchestra too, so I went once when he was playing,” he replies absentmindedly. He can’t recall much of the performance, he’d been much younger when he went.

“Ah, you have a brother that plays as well?”

“He doesn’t play in an orchestra anymore, he quit a while ago. He didn’t really want to continue, it was too much on top of his day job,” Tsukishima explained.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. But I get that, sometimes rehearsals can be really tiring.” Yamaguchi smiles. “But were the dancers any good? I would assume so, the company manages all these artistic branches, right? I’ve seen the drama troupe perform before, and they’re quite good.”

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “Do you think we’re good? We’re one of the art branches too.”

Yamaguchi bursts into laughter. Tsukishima feels himself smiling too. When the laughter subsides, Yamaguchi says “Well, that’s debatable. The other orchestras in this branch are pretty good, though. Obviously, the chambers are good, but I think the wind orchestra is doing a lot better than we are, too.”

“How come it seems like everybody else in this company has standards except for the string orchestra?” Tsukishima wonders aloud. It was more of a rhetorical question than a real question, and Yamaguchi smiles at it.

“Maybe all the good string musicians went to chamber,” he says.

“Except for you and I, I guess.”

“Except for you and I,” Yamaguchi echoes. “Speaking of which, why didn’t you go to chamber? Since you made fun of me for breaking my arm in the shower, I’m going to assume that didn’t happen to you as well.”

Tsukishima feels the edges of his mouth quirk upwards. “You’re right, I didn’t break my arm reenacting Broadway musical numbers.”

“In my defense, that’s the first time something bad has actually come out of reenacting Broadway scenes. Usually, it doesn’t end with my roommate driving me to the hospital after finding me attempting to get out of the shower with a broken arm.”

Tsukishima actually laughs at this, because it just seems ridiculous, but at the same time it’s also totally something that _would_ happen to Yamaguchi and he just can’t help the way the laugh tumbles out of him.

“Hey, it’s not very nice to laugh at that. I’d like you to know that it was quite an unfortunate experience.” Tsukishima just laughs harder, and he looks over to find Yamaguchi smiling as well despite what he just said.

“I’m sure it was,” he says to Yamaguchi with a small smile on his face. He then remembers that he hasn’t answered Yamaguchi’s question, so he continues. “chamber actually did invite me to join, but I just didn’t want to go. At that time, I’d thought it wouldn’t be worth all the extra work.”

“Do you still think that?”

“Definitely not.”

The two of them start laughing again, and this time, a group practicing nearby shoots them irritated looks. They quiet down and raise their instruments into playing position again.

Just before they play the first note, Yamaguchi says “Well, hopefully, it hasn’t been all bad, joining this orchestra.”

Tsukishima glances at Yamaguchi, noting the look in his eyes, the way his freckles dot his skin, the curve of his smile. He turns back to the music.

“Yeah,” he says, and they begin playing.

 

* * *

 

_Ti._

 

“Ooh,” Yamaguchi crows when he receives their stand light.

Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. “Have you never seen a stand light before?”

“Of course, I have! But they always only give it to us when we’re doing dress rehearsals or for performances, so every time I get it it feels special,” Yamaguchi insists.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, but he smiles as well. He can understand where Yamaguchi’s coming from, but they are talking about a stand light…

They’re doing a dress rehearsal today since the show is tonight. Since the orchestra will be in the pit while the dancers dance onstage, they’ve been given stand lights so they can see their music. Yamaguchi switches it on and shines it around the pit like a flashlight. Except that it’s nowhere near as bright as an actual flashlight, and the light didn’t travel nearly as far.

“What are you doing? What if it runs out of batteries?” Tsukishima says, amused.

“Oh, it won’t!”

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“I’m not, I’m just hoping it won’t happen.”

Tsukishima huffs, always slightly amused yet slightly exasperated by his stand partner’s antics. He reaches over to take the light away from Yamaguchi and switches it off.

“Hey!”

“We don’t even need the light right now, they haven’t closed the pit yet.”

“But Tsukki-”

Tsukishima switches the light on again and shines it around like Yamaguchi had been doing.

“Why do you find amusement in this? You can do the same thing with a flashlight.”

“Well, to be completely honest, I’m just bored and trying to find something to do.”

Tsukishima laughs. “I can’t believe you sometimes.”

“Hey, that’s a completely reasonable answer to your question.”

Tsukishima’s still laughing when Yamaguchi takes the light back. “If you’re bored, why don’t you just practice or something?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to laugh at me, considering you aren’t practicing either,” Yamaguchi quips.

“I wasn’t laughing at you for that-”

Yamaguchi throws up a hand to his forehead dramatically. “It’s all the same, Tsukki! It’s not what you’re laughing at me for, it’s the fact that you’re laughing at me at all!”

They look at each other before promptly bursting into laughter.

“Oh my god- what- what was that?” Tsukishima manages to get out.

“I- I don’t know!” Yamaguchi replies between laughs.

When they finally calm down, Yamaguchi turns so that he’s facing Tsukishima fully, but in the process almost blinds him with the stand light. “Ah, sorry Tsukki!”

Tsukishima lowers the arm he’d thrown up to protect his eyes. “I need my eyes to see, you know.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” he flicks the light off.

Tsukishima was about to reply when the conductor’s voice cuts through the air.

“Tsukishima! Yamaguchi! Stop messing around with the stand light, we’re about to start!”

 

* * *

 

_Do._

 

“So, do you think the performance went well?” Yamaguchi asks as he puts his music sheets away.

“It was okay,” Tsukishima says, zipping up his violin case. “I mean, at the very least, I don’t think anybody died from the dissonance of our playing tonight.”

Yamaguchi laughs softly. “I suppose even an orchestra like ours has to improve after rehearsing this much.”

The performance was over, and they were putting away their things before getting to leave. There were a couple of other musicians still lingering, but it’s since late on a Saturday night most people have already gone home.

They finish packing up and begin to walk with each other to the exit. As the two of them walked side by side in silence, Tsukishima thinks about sunsets and freckles and smiles shared, and about trying harder.

Walking out into the night, they both pause on the top of the steps leading down into the street. The moon was already high in the sky, and there were stars twinkling all around it, keeping it company.

“Do you have somewhere you need to be right now?” Tsukishima spoke.

“Not particularly. I’m not in a hurry to get home,” Yamaguchi replied.

“Me either,” Tsukishima says.

For a moment, neither say anything. Then, Yamaguchi opens his mouth again.

“Tsukki, do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”

“Are we having one of those ‘do you believe in fate’ conversations?”

“I don’t know,” Yamaguchi laughs lightly and then shrugs, which is made a little difficult by the violin slung over his shoulder “sometimes, I just think that things work out in a funny way, you know?”

Tsukishima doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just looks at Yamaguchi out of the corner of his eye.

“Sometimes things happen that at first feel like a bad thing, but then I think back on it later on and I’m grateful for it,” Yamaguchi continues.

Tsukishima does reply to this. “You mean like slipping in the shower and breaking your arm?” he says before he can stop himself and immediately regrets it.

He feels heat rush to his cheeks as Yamaguchi turns and stares at him. When he then bursts into laughter, Tsukishima just feels himself turning even more red.

Yamaguchi stops laughing, and Tsukishima finally turns to face him. He sees freckles and brown eyes, and Tsukishima is suddenly thrown back to that first day when he had been so sure that joining this orchestra had been a huge mistake but then turned around and saw his stand partner.

“Are you grateful that you declined the invitation to chamber then, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi steps closer, and Tsukishima doesn’t step back.

“Well, I still think that it’s a pain in the ass to rehearse with this orchestra sometimes.”

Yamaguchi leans closer, and Tsukishima finds himself leaning forward as well.

“But…”

They’re both still leaning forward, and he’s so close to Yamaguchi’s face that he can count his eyelashes.

“There were some parts…”

There’s barely any space between them now, and Tsukishima feels his eyes sliding shut.

“That I really liked.”

And then the little space between them is closed, and Yamaguchi’s lips are soft and warm. Tsukishima lifts his arm to cradle Yamaguchi’s face as they continue to kiss, and he feels Yamaguchi bury his fingers in his hair.

When they finally break apart, they’re both out of breath and breathing hard. Yamaguchi’s cheeks are flushed, and there’s a smile on his face. Tsukishima is sure that he has a similar expression on his face as well.

Yamaguchi gives a light laugh, and Tsukishima feels his smile stretch even wider. They step apart, and Yamaguchi readjusts the violin on his shoulder before turning to go. Before he starts down the steps, he turns back to look at Tsukishima again.

“I’ll see you next rehearsal, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima replies. Then, he gets a better idea, and says “Actually, do you want to go somewhere before that? Maybe lunch tomorrow, if you’re free?”

Yamaguchi so wide that the edges of his eyes crinkle. “Lunch sounds great.”

They make their arrangements to meet, before finally bidding each other goodnight. Standing at the top of the steps in the moonlight, watching Yamaguchi disappearing into the night, Tsukishima thinks back to what Yamaguchi had said about things working out in a funny way and finds himself agreeing.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry guys Kageyama is Not A Prick at the end anymore but there's probably a whole different story about that. Btw Kageyama is also really good but not in chamber because he couldn't sync with everybody else at the time and they rejected him.  
> Hinata is the cellist that argues with Kageyama a lot but don't even ask me why I wanted Hinata to play the cello. Everybody else from Karasuno is in this orchestra too.  
> I took a lot of liberties with the way this orchestra works and the company that supposedly manages it. You know what it's not even "liberties" I completely made it all up are they even in Japan who knows not me.


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